


Goblin Tea

by Alex-writes-about-life (Alexwritesaboutlife)



Series: Adventure Time stuff [1]
Category: Adventure Time
Genre: AU, Angst, Cute, F/M, Fern deserved better, Fluff, Little bit of angst, M/M, Post War, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 05:50:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15966002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexwritesaboutlife/pseuds/Alex-writes-about-life
Summary: just a cute fluffy Fern/Reader because apparently no one writes them





	Goblin Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, I’m not dead and I’m posting something other than Undertale??? Shock. Yeah basically I really love Fern and there are amazingly few fan fictions about him. It’s kinda trash but let me know what you think!

Fern woke, sap-like sweat drenching his forehead, the echoes of his nightmare still ringing in his ears. His clothes clung to his damp skin and his shirt felt tight across his back. 

“You’re not Finn! You’re some kind of demon!”  
The words seared themselves onto his brain like they were written with a hot poker. A cold curl of fear began to rise in his stomach and tears began to fall from his eyes, drawing patterns down his face. The panic and fear claimed his throat and his voice failed him. The look of contempt on his brothers face had broken his heart.

“No, no, I’m not a demon! I’m Finn! Jake please, please!” Fern’s voice began to tremble, and his body began to curl in upon itself, his arms clutching his legs to his chest in an attempt to smother the hollow feeling in his chest and stomach. Of all the people he had always thought Jake would be there for him, would know him. Wouldn’t abandon him.

Green sticky tears pooled and fell from his chin, landing on his leg and tracing a path towards his feet. He thought he could deal with this, that the pain of not being Finn would stop. His hands tangled in the grass on the floor of his house as he fought to try and calm himself. 

But despite his best efforts, his insides continued to rebel, and in fear of throwing up, he threw himself out the front door, and began to run towards the woods. He pulled his hat from his head to alleviate the pressure on his neck, praying for the lump in his throat to go and the pain in his gut to cease. His eyes continued to burn as he tried to fight the tears forcing their way out. 

Charging through the forest, Fern deftly dodged dark branches and sticks, twigs snapping and cracking and leaves crunching beneath his feet.The call of “demon” followed him, ringing in his ears. He kept running, one foot in front of the other until he couldn’t see for tears, green flooding his vision. 

Then, he fell to his knees and sobbed. His hands gripped the back of his head, scattering stray grass and flowers across the dark floor. The tears were hot and covered all of his face. His cries rose into the air and vanished on the night breeze. He wailed and bawled his heart out, until his throat grew sore, and his tears ran dry. His chest continued to convulse as he let loose harsh hiccups of broken sound. 

Angrily he punched the forest floor, breaking a few scattered leaves with a dull crunch.

“I am Finn! Why can’t anyone see that?” Sighing heavily, he stood, and reclaimed his hood from where it lay strewn on the forest floor. Fastening it sound his head, he tucked his hair back inside and walked deeper into the forest. He didn’t want to go back home yet, it was too close to the treehouse, to him. His throat was sore and his face sticky with tears, he didn’t want to be seen like that. He had no reason to fear the forest, there was little activity at night. 

After a few miles of walking he came across a small clearing. It was sliced through the middle by a small silver stream, weaving its way between the few trees. 

Kneeling by the bank he looked into the clear water. His reflection gazed back, eyes watery and red but with mossy green irises. Pale green tears clung to his lashes in tiny droplets.

He didn’t look awful but you could definitely tell he’d been crying. Behind his head he could see the sky, a swirling mix of purple, green and pink, splattered with tiny stars like a diamond covered blanket. Leaning forwards be dipped his hands into the water, breaking the surface of the river and scooping some into his hands. Splashing his face with the liquid, he began to feel a little better. 

“I’m not Finn.” He knew that. He’d known it for a long time. He’d done things Finn would never do, and been hurt in ways Finn had not been hurt.

He might not be Finn anymore but he was still Fern. He just didn’t know if he liked who Fern was. 

Settling on the bank, Fern leaned against a tree, lying his legs towards the river, letting a few small green roots dip into the water. The cool water was refreshing and helped him to calm down. He took a deep breath through the nose and felt the warm night air tickle the grass in his nose.

The bark of the tree pressed into his back. It was smooth for a tree. The tree he was leaning against was by far the tallest in the clearing. Strong silvery wood with a cloud of purple leaves decorating each branch. And then, up in the tree, on a branch he saw it. 

A shape. A person, hunched on a branch, looking like they were waiting to pounce, like a huge bat. 

Fern’s instincts took over and he sprang away from the tree, summoning his sword as the distinctive sing from the swords blade echoed across the clearing. 

“Who are you? Show yourself!” He exclaimed, ready to trigger his green knight abilities if necessary. 

The shadow dropped from the trees and landed between the roots of the tree with a loud crack. Fern swung his sword at them, and heard a gratifying hiss of pain as his blade caught their arm. 

“Ahhh. Stop please, I’m not a threat!” The figure cried out.

In the dim lighting Fern could see twigs and sticks protruding from the top of their head. 

“Huntress Wizard?” He lowered his sword, taking a step towards the shape. 

_______________________________________

“Huntress Wizard?” The green figure stepped towards you, sword still in hand. You eyed him curiously. He was dressed all in green, and looked to be made of grass. You didn’t know of any grass beings apart from grass demons that existed. Although, you hadn’t left the woods in a long time. Your hand was pressed tightly over the wound, your fingers sticky with the fluid leaking from the wound.

“Um no.” You quickly stepped into the light, hands upturned to avoid getting skewered. “I’m sorry for scaring you.” 

He looked confused for a moment, then raised his blade again. “Who are you and why were you watching me? What do you want?” His eyes narrowed until only a slit remained. His eyes looked raw. 

“Well I wasn’t exactly watching you, at least at first! I’m a dryad, and this is my tree.” You leaned your hand on the silvery bark of the tree. “ I was um, playing in the river, when I heard someone coming this way. I climbed into my tree to avoid being seen and protect it. And uh, I guess it’s been a long time since I’ve see another person.” You admitted embarrassedly. 

____________________________

Fern examined the figure in front of him. You were shorter than he was, eyes wide and hands splayed in front of you like they could protect you from his blade. One hand was covered in a dark purple substance that he supposed was your blood. Your hair was a mess of twigs and leaves, and dirty smudges covered your face but you looked far more scared than violent. 

Your hair was the shade of the leaves of the tree, a multitude of purples, pinks and reds. Your skin was smooth with the occasional divot or crack. It was odd, it was almost like skin, it didn’t crack or flake as you spoke, but it looked tough enough to withstand a hit, and there was a small creaking sound every time you moved or spoke. On your left leg there was a patch of green moss beginning to grow. You wore a simple outfit, that enabled you to climb the trees and get around with ease. 

Dryads were supposed to be relatives to elves, but your features were not at all elven, and not as sharp as many of the dryads he - Finn had seen before. They were far closer to humanoid. They were softer and more rounded. Your ears however were more pointed than a humans, and your eyes a little more narrow. You were pretty cute, he thought.

He dispelled his weapon and extended his hand. “I didn’t know there were any dryads left around here. I thought they all moved out long ago. I’m Fern, by the way.” He mentally prepared himself for the comparison to Finn. But it never came.

You grabbed his hand and shook. “Oh, they did, it’s..kind of a long story. I’m Y/N.” 

Your hand was surprisingly soft, but definitely harder than a humans. It felt sturdy but not stiff. His hands were soft, covered in tiny blades of grass like a thin layer of fur. You met each other’s eyes as you shook hands.

His eyes were a beautiful deep green, outlined by dark thick lashes. They cast shadows across his iris as though looking into a forest from before the Mushroom War. You felt as though you could get lost in them and never find your way out. The sclera of his eyes were a light mint, and his tear ducts a pale rose, although they seemed to be slightly reddened as though he had been crying. 

Your eyes were a dark violet with pink and silver speckled across the surface. A smattering of dark brown and black freckles covered the bridge of your nose, and short thick eyelashes lined your lids. 

You cleared your throat awkwardly and the two of you looked away, cheeks burning. 

Fern noticed you grabbing your arm and turned pale. “Aw jeez, sorry about your arm. Man, I dinked again. Here, let me take a look at it, it’s the least I can do.” 

Taking your arm into his hands he noticed your arm was very warm, and thicker than his arm. He wondered if it was because of an armour or defence mechanism. The wound wasn’t very deep. It looked like a combination of his warning swipe and your thick skin had resulted in a lighter wound. He let out a sigh of relief. 

“Looks like it isn’t too deep.” Swinging his pack off his back he knelt and rummaged inside until he found a roll of bandages and a small bottle of disinfectant. He stood and dabbed a little of the pungent fluid onto a cotton ball and swiped it lightly over the wounded area. You screwed your nose up at the stinging sensation but you didn’t make a sound, as the soft ball glided over your skin, occasionally catching on the rougher surface of your arm. He reached across and pulled the skin taut. There was a surprising amount of give considering your wooden skin. He began to wrap the bandages around your arm, a familiar action that he had performed many times before.

You watched him work, elegant green fingers making quick work of wrapping the bandage round securely, with only a small amount of blood permeating the surface of the bandage. He clearly had experience with this. You wondered just what he did that required him to have such practice. From the sword and pack you guessed he was a hero or adventurer.

“There. That should be good. And uh, sorry again.” You withdrew your arm from Fern’s hands into your lap. His fingers almost seemed to linger on your skin. 

“So, uh, what brings you to the forest at this time?” You asked, focusing on an iridescent beetle carrying a segment of lilac leaf away on its back, not daring to meet his eyes. 

“Um...I couldn’t sleep. I guess it’s a long story of my own.” He offered, rubbing his neck.  
You glanced back up to meet his eyes, a dark green blush still burning in his cheeks at the close contact between you. 

“Well uh, they say stories are the best way to get to know someone. How about we trade long stories?” You replied, sitting down at the base of your tree, roots moving like silver snakes to create a bench of knitted branches and roots. You gestured to the space next to you. 

Fern looked at you, and the space and smiled slightly. It made his whole face brighten, and seem a little less world weary. He eased himself into the space, his thigh brushing yours slightly, the grass blades tickling your skin. “That’s pretty cool! Can you control the whole tree?” 

You grin. “Yep! The tree, it’s leaves and roots! Plus I live in it so I can store things in there!”  
You reached backwards into the bark of the tree to pull out two mugs of a steaming liquid. You thrust one at Fern. “Here!”

“Oh uh, that’s ok, I can’t eat or drink stuff like a human.” Fern explained, not wanting to hurt your feelings. But your beam didn’t falter for a second. 

You snorted. “I’m not human silly! Trust me, you can drink this.” You shoved the mug at him again, a small droplet of liquid slopping over the side. 

He reached out and took it hesitantly. Regardless of whether it was drinkable or not, the warmth from the mug made him feel more relaxed. He wrapped his hands further around the mug and raised it towards his face. The liquid was dark and steam rose from the surface, kissing his face with heat. His reflection stared back at him from the deep amber drink. He had missed the sensation of eating and drinking, but he was skeptical about his ability to drink the substance in front of him.

Glancing over at you he saw your eyes shut as you sipped the beverage. You hummed happily as you drank. A bead of amber weaves itself over his fingers. 

Shrugging Fern raised the cup to his lips and took a deep sip. 

It was...delicious. He didn’t know how to describe the taste, it was more of a feeling. A deep warmth in his stomach and a calmness washed over him. He closed his eyes to enjoy the sensation, sinking deeper into the sea which seemed to adjust itself to his position. 

When he opened them again he turned to see you watching him over the rim of your mug. Several pink flowers had appeared in your hair. Or had they always been there? Man, he needed to pay more attention. 

“So? Good right?” You asked, moonlight glinting off your silvery skin. 

He nodded at you. “What’s in it?” 

“Hmmm.” You drummed your fingers on the side of the mug. “ I’m not sure of the exact recipe, but there’s some soil, fertiliser, sugar, citric acid, and some cloves I think. You can get it from the goblin market! Pretty pricy though.” You mused. 

“There’s a goblin market?!” Fern exclaimed, sitting up in surprise. He had thought that he knew everything about Ooo but it still found new ways to surprise him every day. 

“Yeah but it’s pretty hushed up. Goblins try to avoid dealing with certain kinds of people, including demons and candy people. And princesses in general.” You shook your head, and gulped the last of your drink. Then you leaned over the side of the bench and dropped your mug. 

Before it could hit the forest floor, a small silver root grabbed it by the handle and sucked it back into the tree. 

“So!” You turned your attention back to Fern and tilted your head to one side like a bird as you examined him. “How long have you been a plant?” 

“I -uh, what?” Fern stuttered. 

“Well it’s obviously not been long, otherwise you’d know you can drink and eat certain things. It used to be common knowledge amongst people like us. And there aren’t many new plant people who don’t know about stuff like this. So.” You leaned towards him. 

He sighed and set his mug on the floor. “It’s part of the long story.” He admitted. 

“Look, I don’t mean to pry, but, it sure seems like you’ve got something weighing down your mind. Who better to tell than the tree girl who never leaves the forest? The pretty empty forest I might add. No ones been this far into this forest for years now.” You confessed. 

“I mean, it would be good to talk about it but, it’s not light stuff and we just met. Doesn’t seem right somehow.” He confessed. 

“I get it if you’d rather not talk about it, but sometimes a stranger can listen better than anyone. I don’t have any prejudices against you going into this story, and I’m not one to judge.” You offered, offering a small smile. 

Seeing the look on your face, he focused on the floor and he began his tale. 

“Years ago, I was a human called Finn, and there was a wish-master called Prismo. He was the dream of an old man, and existed as long as this old man was asleep. If you woke this old man up, then Prismo would be killed until the old man fell asleep again. Killing Prismo was an offence punishable by being sent to the Citadel, a really high level prison that you’d pretty much never want to go to. Except, my brother, Jake and I did want to go there, we’d just found out my father was alive and imprisoned in the Citadel. So we were all prepared to wake up the old guy and get sent to the Citadel, but this super bad guy, The Lich who had previously been deceived by us and frozen in that room came back and killed the old guy. Which killed Prismo forever. Which was pretty messed up to be honest.” 

His eyes flicked between the floor and your face. You seemed pretty absorbed in his account. He took a breath and continued, the unease in his stomach settling a little. 

“So, time went on for a while, until one day Jake began acting all whack,and it turned out it was a previous memory of Jake. Eventually I ended up back at a temple where Prismo was alive and enacting something called Plan B. Plan B was where one of Jake’s alternate selves would sleep for all eternity to keep Prismo alive. Jake accepted that, and his Finn, me, had to sacrifice myself to keep that. Really, I didn’t have much choice. But anyway, I got pooped into some kind of sword, which the Finn of this reality found. We could talk to and see each other so Finn called the Sword the Finn Sword.” 

You shifted yourself towards him, disrupting his story. “I’m sorry you had to make that choice. It must have been hard.” 

“Not really, it just sort of happened, I sort of exploded and turned into the sword I guess. I don’t really remember much of this happening. Or much of being in the sword. Prismo filled us in later. So I can’t pretend to be upset about it.”

You rested your head on his shoulder. Your hair fell into your face and he reached across to tuck it behind your ear. You both blushed at the contact. He cleared his throat and looked away nervously but continued.

“Anyways, Finn used the sword, and stuff was fine for a while. Then, one day he broke the sword when the Bandit Princess stole it, and his prosthetic arm, formed by his old grass sword re-summoned the sword. When he broke it, a grass demon from his grass sword came into the Finn sword. We both wanted to get out and he formed a body of grass and I have control of it. Finn told me I was copying him but I thought he was copying me. Jake backed him up. They called me a demon.” He sighed. The memory was still raw and painful to him. 

“I have all of Finn’s memories up to moment I got trapped in a sword, but none of my friends know me, they all just see me as ‘grass Finn’ or bad Finn’. They’re not even really my friends. Just his. I did a lot of junk I’m not proud of but, I’m just trying to learn how to be Fern. But it’s so hard! I’ve lost everything, my friends, my brother, my body, and I was worse than Finn at everything. I dinked everything up.” His voice began to break at the end, and he found your arms sliding round his waist. You didn’t squeeze, or let go, just held him. Your arms were warm and cradled his form well. It was nice. 

The smell of cloves and moss flooded his nostrils and he let a tear fall, splattering on your arm and leaving a smatter of darker wood. 

“I spent so long trying to be better than Finn. But I can’t. He’s been around longer than me. He’s older and wiser and better. Then I finally decided to be someone else, to be Fern. But everyone knows him. And I look like him. I can’t ever be free of him. I’ll always be standing in his shadow. I even beat him up and I nearly killed him. We went to war. I just want to be like him, so that they’ll like me, but I don’t want to be him because I can’t stand him. I know it’s terrible but he took everything from me. Now I don’t even know what I am, to any of my friends. Am I a joke? Am I evil? I don’t want to be Finn anymore but he stil has everything I want.” 

When he fell silent, the silence hung in the air heavily. Neither of you spoke for a long time. 

“That’s the short version anyway.” He murmured. 

“That’s some heavy junk man. No one should have to carry that alone.” You spoke, not really sure what to say. Fern didn’t exactly look comfortable, but he did look like he felt a bit lighter. “ You know, everyone dinks sometimes. And sure, you might have dinked really bad but everyone does it, it’s part of being alive. I’m not sure how I’d talk to someone who never done anything wrong.” You admitted. “It’d be like constantly striving to achieve this idea of perfection that’s really unattainable. It wouldn’t be who you are. Just like you’re not Finn anymore. You’re gonna experience things differently now. How you react to that stuff will define Fern.” 

He appreciated that you didn’t just tell him he was justified. He knew he’d done some messed up junk. He wasn’t good or evil but kind of grey. He couldn’t be completely good, he’d tried to kill Finn and steal his life. But he couldn’t be completely evil, he’d helped to stop GOLB and defend Ooo when necessary. But he knew you were right, the only way to learn who Fern was, was to live life as Fern, not Finn. Just having someone to listen to him, who didn’t seem to know Finn or be against Fern from the start was refreshing. 

“Yeah. It’s...not all stuff I’m proud of. But I do feel better for getting it all out there. Thanks for listening.” He swallowed and turned to look at you. “ How about you, what’s your story?” The attempt to shift attention from himself was successful, you withdrew your arms from around his waist and sat back. 

Taking a deep breath, you began your story.

“A long time ago, just before the mushroom war, I was born in a pretty good city. We had quite a bit of money and we lived happily enough. I came from a broken family, my parents were separated, the stress of war and raising a family drove them apart. But they loved me and my sibling and did their best to give us a good life. We fought sometimes, like any family does, but on the whole we were happy.”

“You were a human?” Fern asked, his face twisted in confusion. You nodded. 

“I was once yes, but it was a very long time ago. When I turned 14 there was a devastating heatwave. We had no rain for months. My sister died first. She was only 12. But there was so little water, no medicine and no food. She just wasn’t strong enough to fight the illness, and when death finally came, she said it was ok, and she was ready. But I don’t really think anyone is ever really ready. Especially at 12. I’m not sure if she really understood. She just wanted the pain to end. After she died my family began to lose hope. One by one they started to die and eventually I was the only one left.” 

You swallowed and swiped at your eyes to prevent any tears dangerously close to the edge from falling. Fern reached down and squeezed your hand, encouraging you to keep going. You flashed him a watery smile.

“After that, the mushroom war occurred. The biggest dink up of all time. Almost everyone died. Anyone I came across refused to help to reserve resources. Survival of the fittest, y’know? I was forced to live alone. I adapted to surviving. It was hard, and cold, and for a long time I thought I’d die well before I could find help. Then finally, I came across a woman who was made of wood. With beautiful blonde hair and a long thin nose. She called herself a Tree Witch, and asked me to help her find some ingredients for a potion, and in return she’d direct me to a camp nearby where there were more humans.”

“What kind of ingredients?” You pondered the question for a while. “I think it was things like ‘a treasured item’, or an item of great sentiment. Anyway, I helped her find the ingredients she needed, and she led me to a small forest outside of the city. There was plenty of wildlife but no humans. There were even vampires, but I didn’t know that then. When I asked her where the humans were, she replied I could watch all the humans come and go as a tree, and transformed me into a dryad. I don’t think she meant for me to be a dryad, I believe she wanted to turn me into a tree. But, I didn’t know that she failed at the time. I thought I was just a tree for the longest of time. Thing is, trees don’t have very good perception of time, so I have no idea how long I was stuck like that. I finally managed to figure out how to separate myself from the tree, and gain control over my abilities. I made friends with other dryads in the forest, and for a while life was good.” 

You patted the trunk of the tree. “My tree grew tall, and so I grew stronger, and we were pretty hardy for a group of trees. We could defend ourselves and out homes pretty well. And then one day, a stranger of pink came and started to clear away the trees. Countless dryads lost their homes that day. We couldn’t stop him. Some even died because of their actions. So all the dryads fled the forest. Except me. I hadn’t figured out how to separate from my tree, and so I was stuck in the forest like a dog on a leash. “

You looked away from him, as the tears began to fall.

“I’ve been on my own for 764 years. I tried so hard to protect this forest. I help the animals that live here, I help people find their way out. But I’ll never see my family or friends again. They’re all long gone now.” 

Fern’s arms snaked around your middle and pulled you close as you broke down sobbing. 

“I’m so sorry.”

He held you until you were finished, not budging an inch or uttering another word. You didn’t know if he didn’t know what to say or if he just knew this was what you needed but you appreciated it. It felt safe, like home. He was warm and soft and he smelled like cut grass. 

Finally you stopped crying. Your throat was sore from talking and crying. Your hands were laced together and hadn’t let go. 

“It’s been really nice to talk to someone after so long. Thank you Fern.” 

“Ditto. I uh, feel better now.” 

You both stood and you watched the bench disappear as the roots vanished back into the soil.

The sky was painted peach by the beginnings of the sun rising in Ooo. The night was over, and the world was about to awaken. 

Fern swallowed. “Listen, I’ve gotta go man. But...would it be ok if I came to see you again sometime?” He asked hesitantly. 

You smiled so widely your cheeks hurt. “I think that would be fine.” 

Fern grinned back at you, both standing there smiling like idiots. Then, he leaned in and kissed your cheek. Your cheek was warm and a spark seemed to pass between you before Fern started heading back out through the forest with a wave. 

You touched your fingers to your cheek, a tingling in your cheek and stomach that could not be quelled. Glancing in the direction Fern had headed you grabbed a paper bag and a piece of paper from inside the tree and took of in the direction he had gone. Swinging through the trees, until you caught up with his green figure, you called out.

“Fern!” Your voice echoed through the sleeping forest.  
As he ran he was holding his fingers to his lips, but hearing your call, he stopped, skidding in the soil and bark that littered the floor and turned. 

You dropped down in front of him, and thrust the bag at him, a fire raging in your cheeks. Then, before he had time to register the bag, you leaned forwards and kissed him. 

It was a hard experience to describe. Fern knew what kissing fire and bubblegum felt like, so this was far from the strangest thing he’d ever done. Your lips were smooth and warm, and you tasted like soil and ginger. It wasn’t as burning hot as Phoebe, or as sweet as Bonnie, but it was warm and secure and safe.  
Fern’s lips were soft and he tasted like green tea and honey. It was fresh and sweet and felt like lying in a meadow. Peace seemed to wash over you as your tension dissolved and you melted into the kiss.  
Your arms wrapped around his neck and his hands rested on your hips.

It wasn’t a long kiss, but when you broke apart you were both blushing like lunatics. You squeaked out frantic goodbyes and sped away to your homes, where you both collapsed on the floor in a mess. 

When Fern got in he finally remembered the bag you had thrust at him. Opening it up noisily, he found a small bag of dark powder that smelt like cloves, ginger and soil. There was a small white card inside.  
The card read in your hastily scribbled handwriting:

Goblin tea

1 spoonful per cup.  
Add hot water and honey and leave to brew for 3 minutes.  
Y/N x

Fern couldn’t wait to see you again, and he had a feeling it was mutual. Who knew a trip to the forest would turn out so well?

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to request more Green boy or anything else, in the comments or at my tumblr @Butterscotchpiess! I’ve got a few ideas if people want to see more. Should I write more Adventure Time?


End file.
